


Chronoporia

by Dark1Ninja8



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Angst, Anti-Heroes, End of the World, F/M, Futuristic, Humor, Marinette as an engineer, Plot Twists, Romance, Science Fiction, Slow Burn, Smut, Steampunk, Superheroes, Time Travel, Villains
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 08:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20775377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark1Ninja8/pseuds/Dark1Ninja8
Summary: Marinette (Malchance) is sent on a time travel mission into the future to save the world from an evil tyrant. But the world she arrives in is much different than she expected. Machinery has taken over, and with humankind becoming more and more like robots, she is forced to adapt. She teams up with the most unlikeliest of people, a boy who just so happens to be the Emperor's son. Coccinelle (Adrien) and Mal go undercover as masked vigilantes, slowly reminding the world of their humanity and slaughtering the Emperor's akumas. Mal begins to forget the world she left behind, but time has a way of catching up to you when you least expect it.





	Chronoporia

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, readers!
> 
> Chronoporia is a steampunk/sci-fi fanfiction I created for Miraculous Ladybug. I changed everyone's names, so it might be a bit confusing at first. I'll leave a short vocabulary down below. The first chapter is a bit lengthy, but introducing the world and our characters took a bit of time. I hope you enjoy Mal and Cocci's first interactions as much as I did, they were a lot of fun to write. 
> 
> I hope to finish up the second chapter soon! Let me know what you think, I'm very open to constructive criticism.
> 
> Vocabulary:
> 
> Chronoporia: Greek word for time travel
> 
> Jīqìrén: Chinese word for robots, or in my book, “City of Robots”
> 
> Yīng é: Chinese word for Hawkmoth, in my book is also known as “Gabriel”
> 
> Malchance: French word for bad luck, or in my book, “Marinette” 
> 
> Kēxuéjiā: Chinese word for scientist, or in my book, “Akuma designers”
> 
> Coccinelle: French word for ladybug, or in my book, “Adrien”
> 
> Zhùlǐ: Chinese word for assistant, or in my book, “Nathalie”
> 
> Charme De La Chance: French word for luck of the charm/lucky charm/luck charm, or in my book, Marinette’s engineer shop 
> 
> Blower: a disrepectful term for a girl.
> 
> Dollymop: a part-time street girl; a midinette.
> 
> Aeronef: a heavier than air flying machine. ie: an airplane or gyrocopter
> 
> Aerostat: a lighter than air craft. ie: a balloon or dirigible
> 
> Ornithopter: a machine designed to achieve flight by means of flapping wings.
> 
> Arbuckle’s: slang for coffee, taken from a popular brand of the time.
> 
> Bilk: cheat.
> 
> Analytical Engine: a purely mechanical “steampunk“ computer. Also known as a difference engine.
> 
> Étoiles: French word for stars; a common curse word in my book. 
> 
> Vryeon: a word I created for my book; an element that is bright gold in color and is capable of conducting electricity. It was created by Dr. Freyson in 4,052. 
> 
> Otelien: a word I created for my book; a type of synthetic material that is commonly light blue or white in color, and is used as an external material in buildings, automobiles, and machines. 
> 
> Enjoy! ~

_ Light. _

_ It filtered in from the window to her right. _

_ It danced on the smoky clouds straining for higher destinations. _

_ It played with her memories, teasing her with visions of another world, reprimanding her for forgetting. _

_ Light was everywhere. _

_ Except that one little place beneath her neck that sometimes thumped in her ears. _

Malchance swiped a grimy hand across her brow, which did nothing to aid her less-than-attractive appearance. A sweatdrop slid down her left temple as she narrowed her eyes at her strenuous task. She shifted on her stool, trying to find a comfortable position on the useless contraption. With a sudden growl, Mal flung herself to her feet and chucked her project against the far wall. It clanked harshly against the rough surface and crumpled to the ground in a mess of bolts, screws, and loose wires. 

“I never liked it anyway,” she concluded with an undignified snort. Turning on her heel, Mal surveyed the cluttered workspace she called home. She wasn’t really one to be organized, so it was a bit of a disaster. An overturned container had made a permanent grease stain on her wooden desk. Jumbled projects and pieces of machinery littered the floor and shelves, combined with spare tools and an occasional plate of food she had forgotten to take care of. With a sigh, Mal decided she would probably clean up tomorrow. Glancing at the medium-sized tablet on her desk, she saw that it was nearly time for breakfast. She threw her work gloves on the table (ignoring the one that slipped off onto the ground) and slid her protective goggles onto her forehead. Her messy blue-black hair stuck out in all directions and scraped at her shoulders where it ended. She had chopped it off a while ago, leaving her this frizzy chaos that she wasn’t sure what to do with. Most times, she tied it back into pigtails with two spare pieces of wiring. 

Mal scuffed over to the doorway of her small engineer shop, the Charme De La Chance, and took in a deep breath. The smells of the town flooded her lungs, and she closed her eyes to identify. The morning was small and new, a babe recovering from the harshness of winter and exploring the possibilities of spring. A hint of freshly-baked bread rode upon the wind’s playful patterns and mocked her with what she knew she couldn’t have. Smoke from the nearby factory mingled with the atmosphere, creating a smell that was both irritating and somehow pleasant. Mal opened her eyes and studied the reddish-orange sunrise. Not too long ago, those clouds had been foreign. The ashy air had been intoxicating. The strange eyes and clanking machinery had been terrifying. But now…well...it was home. Something deep inside her twitched. It was painful, yet the acceptance made it easier. 

“What is she doing?” 

Mal snapped out of her daze. A couple of young girls stared at her with huge brown and olive eyes. Fumbling, Mal tried to think of something to say. Honestly, she wasn’t sure what she had been doing. 

“I...uh—um....hi,” she stuttered. One of the girls let out a soft snort. 

“I told you. She can’t even talk right.” The girl with the olive eyes whispered, just loud enough for Mal to hear. Her companion eyed the greasy engineer with a look of disdain. 

“What a blower,” she sniffed. Mal winced. She hadn’t been here long, but she knew that word better than the back of her hand. With a final piercing look, the girls turned and flaunted away. The engineer sucked in a heavy sigh and decided to ignore them. They didn’t know anything about her or her reasons for being here. In a couple of months, they might not even exist anymore. 

She stepped out onto the street and smiled. Mornings in Jīqìrén were always the most fun, and today was especially exciting. Nothing was going to hold Mal back; certainly not a couple of stuck-up dollymops. She stuck her tongue out at their departing backs before breaking into a valiant chase against the wind. The twisting roads of the city opened before her like one massive book with hundreds of layers, overlapping and intercrossing into one big mess of concrete and machinery. To her right, towering buildings stretched themselves against the ash-gray and orange-red sky, puffing out their smoke and seeming to get bigger every day. To her left, the road ended completely and a small Aerostat port took over. She heard that some stupid drunk had fallen right over the edge the other day and it took them forever to find his body. Directly in front of her, a small cluster of merchant shops and village houses grouped themselves together, their back alleys and side streets extending like elongated fingers in all directions. The shadows of passing Aeronefs and Aerostats constantly roved overhead, so that practically no one could grow a good garden without having to shake their fist at the sun that always disappeared. Mal skirted around a young boy having trouble with his Ornithopter and snickered to herself. He all but was in the bloody thing backward. Mal went everywhere on foot if she could, (mostly because she probably couldn’t pay for transportation even if she wanted to,) vouching instead for the wind in her hair and the grimy stone streets underneath her. 

Jīqìrén as a city was shaped like a butterfly with its wings splayed out, hovering mid-air in an ocean of clouds. They were an estimated 23,721 feet off the ground, held in place by ancient structures constantly maintained and worked on. You couldn’t walk an inch without bumping into a construction worker. The Aeronefs cargoed in supplies from neighboring colonies, and ambassadorships were always going back and forth to keep the peace. Sometimes waterships were brought up to be worked on, bulky things smelling of salt and dead fish. If you were lucky, and if it was an especially clear day, you could see a glittering ocean far below the billowing clouds. Mal always secretly wanted to own an Ornithopter so she could dive down into the free air and scrape the tips of the sea with her fingers. But one of those things would cost her her entire shop and probably put her in debt for ten years if she bought one. 

Mal’s stomach growled as she passed by a café. She paused a moment to catch her breath as she surveyed the menu. Arbuckle’s, pastries, the usual. The girl glanced around, adrenaline slinking underneath her skin and into her bloodstream. As much as she hated it, she was addicted to the feeling of its presence within her veins. Her heart did flips as she slipped into the shoddy, crooked little restaurant. She pretended to be looking for a restroom as she passed the counter and backtracked into the kitchen at the last second. A bulbous chef with his hands full of pastries glanced up at her entrance and immediately decided he didn’t like her very much. Mal beamed at him as she snatched up a croissant right underneath his nose and whirled out of the room before he could set down his tray. 

“Filthy bilk!” he called after her. Mal silenced her laughter with a big bite of her new prize. The soft crust melted on her tongue as she sank her teeth into its buttery goodness. Croissants were her favorite. She had stolen so many of them by now that she was practically known as the croissant thief. Mal wiped her greasy hands on her pants before taking out her tablet to check the time. One look had her swallowing a soft yelp and breaking into another run, this time as a race against the clock and not the wind. She had to make this interview or her life was over. Literally. The streets wound around her, following some indecipherable code, as if they themselves were just one big piece of machinery. It had taken Mal three months just to figure out how not to get lost every day. Finally, she reached the head of the butterfly and found herself frozen beneath the shadow of AEM: Akuma Engineering Manor, home of the world’s greatest Kēxuéjiā. The colossal beast of a place was seventy-four stories high, crafted from steel and stone alike, and finished off by a mystical butterfly mural plastered to the front of the tallest building. It was shaped like one big “U”, with smaller structures flanking the largest one and looking down at everyone else as if they were are all naught but ants. The manor was owned by Yīng é, Jīqìrén’s current Emperor and one of the richest men in the world. To say all of this was intimidating would be saying the least. 

Mal clattered up the main steps breathlessly and burst into the center hall of AEM. She was met with a startling silence and the smell of paper slightly burned and left to sit on a shelf for a couple of years. A young woman in a light blue dress stared at her from her mahogany desk with unimpressed eyes. Mal was suddenly aware of the fact that she looked like a hopeless hoodlum. She quickly but not-so-discreetly swiped off the dirt on her pants and raked her hands through her hair to smooth it down. The deep scarlet rug beneath her boots was already starting to gain little brown patches wherever she stepped. The woman continued to stare. Mal cleared her throat awkwardly. 

“Uh...hi?”

The woman sighed. “I’m guessing that you are Miss Malchance here for an appointment at seven-thirty?” Mal nodded eagerly. She waited while the woman in blue typed on her Analytical Engine for a few minutes, her perfectly-manicured nails clacking against the keys. “Looks like you’re all set. Just head towards the elevator to your left and go to the seventy-second floor. Follow the hall all the way to the end and go through the last door.” The woman sighed again as Mal rushed off as soon as she was finished. The brass elevator doors swung open without sound before her, and she gawked at the dozens of buttons as options, resisting the urge to push all of them. She selected the seventy-second floor and waited as the doors began to close. 

“Wait!”

A gloved hand slipped between the elevator doors just as they were about to shut. A tall figure glided into the enclosure beside her, breathing hard and smelling of expensive cologne. Mal tried her best not to stare. She really did. But it was nearly impossible when this random stranger turned out to be a shockingly handsome blonde about her age with clothes that were so tidy and clean she almost reached out to make sure they were real. She almost wanted to make sure that HE was real. He saw what floor she had selected and flashed the whitest grin she had ever seen. 

“We’re both headed for the same floor. I guess it’s destiny,” he chuckled lightly. Mal shook herself out of her daze and realized all of a sudden how small this elevator was. She cleared her throat and tried not to flinch when her shoulder accidentally brushed against his. She wanted to try and sneak over to the wall farthest from him, but she was pretty sure that would look rude and this guy seemed well-to-do. It would probably be in her best interest to get on his good side if she wanted to start working here. 

“You look...um….interesting? Are you here for an interview?” The boy's eyes were on her, and she shifted uncomfortably. 

“Look who’s a pretty genius. What else would I be here for?” Mal snapped and then winced. There went her chances of getting on his good side. She honestly couldn’t control her own tongue sometimes. She waited for the worst, keeping her gaze anywhere but on him. What she was not prepared for was the laughter that erupted from his lips, loud and liquid like golden honey, sounding more like a song than spontaneous elation. She didn’t know if she should be relieved or concerned. 

“Étoiles! No one has ever spoken to me like that before in my life,” he gasped between fits of giggles. Mal grimaced. ‘You haven’t seen enough of the real world then,’ she thought but didn’t say. It was always like that with rich people. They never really knew what was going on outside the comforts of their luxurious mansions and canopied beds. “Do you talk like that to everyone you meet?” 

“I say whatever I want whenever,” Mal answered truthfully. “Don’t think you’re so special.” 

“Well, I am the son of the Emperor, so I should think I am of some importance.” 

Mal nearly choked on her own saliva. She found her eyes drifting over to him before she could stop them. They traveled up his navy blue pants and gold-engraved waistcoat to his lopsided, charm-laden smirk. His hair fell around his face in wavy curls, going every which way all at once as if he had just had a date with a hurricane. Her gaze traveled a little farther until they fell upon his eyes. 

Green.

That’s the only word she could think of.

They glittered like hidden pools of water in ancient green valleys. 

They mingled with her own blue irises, creating little worlds of emerald torrents and sapphire storms. For a moment there was only her heart beating in her chest, reminding her that she was alive, and his intense green gaze. It could even be said that in that moment their hearts danced to the same rhythm, tightening some unseen cord between their beings. 

“You’re an idiot,” Mal decided as she broke their connection. The boy looked offended. 

“You are quick to judge, Little Engineer,” he said grimly. Mal laughed dryly. 

“Try living in the heart of the city for a little while and see what it does to shape your judgments.” The elevator beeped and came to a sudden stop. The doors parted before them, revealing a long gold hallway embroidered by another plush rug and million-dollar paintings on the walls. Mal went to brush past him, but the boy caught her greasy hand in his leather-gloved palm and lifted it to his lips. The girl froze as he bowed and placed a kiss on her fingers, his eyes grinning up at her as he did so. He rose and kept her hand in his for a moment, beaming at her like he was just the greatest thing in the whole world. Mal yanked her hand away and wiped his kiss onto her pants with a disgusted look. 

“I’m Coccinelle by the way,” he declared, ignoring her unladylike response. “But you can call me Cocci for short.”

“What a stupid name,” she scoffed. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what might be yours?” 

“Nice try.” She gave him a wicked smirk and turned on her heel. 

“Until we meet again, M’lady!” He called after her. Mal shook her head and quickened her pace. When she was sure she was out of his line of sight, she collapsed against a steady wall and heaved in a deep breath. She wasn’t sure what had just happened, and she didn’t know what to think of it. No guy had given her this much attention since...well, since forever. She closed her eyes and made herself breathe in through her nose and out her mouth. She was getting ruffled up over nothing. She took out her tablet and dared a glance at the time. Five minutes late. That elevator had been way too slow for her own good. She picked herself up and continued down the hallway until she reached the last door at the end. The entry rose up before her in a giant display of wood and gold and some other type of blue-ish metal that glinted in the morning sun. It looked as if someone had taken a piece of nature and intertwined it with something unnatural, creating something that should be a symbiotic relationship but instead seemed only to tolerate the other, neither needing it or desiring it. That seemed to be the way for everything in this world. Inventions curling themselves around nature, sucking the life from it and expecting it to love it in return. Mal was about to raise her hand to knock when the door before her creaked open with a jerk, revealing an overly-bright room beyond. The young inventor took a few tentative steps forward, fingernails digging into her palms at her sides. She entered a spacious enclosure made almost entirely of windows, accented by walls composed of more of that weird metal, giving the place a blue tint. A large white desk sat in the middle, encircled by a couple of chairs and another plush rug. 

“Welcome,” said a voice behind her. Mal spun and was met with two electric blue eyes, unnervingly bright and unblinking. A tall woman stood beside the door, dressed all in black with a deep scarlet shirt peeking out from underneath her cardigan. Her black hair was pulled into a tight bun, separated by one vibrant strip of red hair falling down into her face. She gave Mal a tight smile before closing the door and going around to the other side of the desk. She sat down and gestured for Mal to do the same. 

“I’m Malchance,” she said as she settled into the chair, trying not to think of the grease marks she was probably leaving all over the expensive piece of furniture. “I’m here for a-”

“A job interview, I know,” the woman finished. Mal snapped her mouth shut and frowned. Everyone really enjoyed interrupting each other around here it seemed. “My name is Zhùlǐ, Yīng é’s personal assistant, and I will be conducting your interview today.” 

“But I thought that-” 

“Emperor Yīng would be doing it? He does not bother himself with such small affairs, Miss Malchance. I hope you are not displeased.” The woman pronounced her last statement as more of a command instead of a question. Mal squirmed in her seat. Something about Zhùlǐ was sending cold chills down her spine. The way she moved in such collected, programed movements, and the sound of her even, meticulous voice was making her feel uncomfortable.

“Of course not,” Mal answered with as nice of a smile as she could manage. Zhùlǐ turned to the dazzlingly white Analytical Engine sitting on the desk and began to type, turning all of her attention to the machinery before her and forgetting Mal’s existence entirely. The girl slumped back against the chair and fiddled with the necklace around her neck, trying to focus on anything but those strange boy’s green eyes. She couldn’t seem to forget about her encounter in the elevator. The way he had looked at her seemed to have engraved itself onto her brain like a brand mark on the side of a cow. The feeling of his lips on her fingers made her skin tingle. She began tapping them against the side of the armrest, trying to get rid of it. The silence in the room was so solid that Mal nearly jumped every time the assistant’s fingernail hit the keyboard. Finally, Zhùlǐ looked up at the engineer and eyed her down for a moment. 

“It says here that you wish to enter our Kēxuéjiā Training Program in hopes of becoming an Akuma designer,” she stated in that monotone voice Mal was beginning to hate. 

“Yes,” Mal said flatly, and then added, “ma’am.” 

“You have had experience in engineering, it seems. How long have you been inventing?” 

“Ten years.” Her answer was quick, memorized. She had been practicing this interview with herself in the mirror for weeks. Zhùlǐ nodded, a stiff, almost artificial movement that made Mal grimace. Something was definitely wrong with this woman. 

“I see. And what of your past, Miss Malchance? Your parents, education, so forth? This information seems a bit vague from what I can see of your résumé and your application.” The assistant scrolled through something on the Engine before turning those electric eyes back on her. Mal winced. This was something she would like to avoid talking about at all costs, but she knew it had been coming. 

“I was born and raised in New Paris, where my parents were bakers. They saw my talent for engineering and sent me here as an intern to take private lessons under a relative tutor. I studied for four years before my tutor died of old age and I took over his shop, the ‘Charme De La Chance’. When I saw that AEM was looking for new Kēxuéjiā, I thought it would be worth a shot, and it would make my parents proud.” The words sounded dry in her mouth, and she hoped Zhùlǐ wouldn’t notice. She swallowed a few times and dug her nails into the material of the chair, trying to melt all of her tension into the object. 

“Your shop seems to receive quite a bit of attention, though not as much as some of the more professional ones. The concern here is if you have the money to enroll, Miss Malchance. This is a very prestigious company, and it does not come at any small cost.” Boiling blue like lightning sizzled straight through Mal’s insides. 

“You can see on my application that I applied for the scholarship offered on your advertisement,” the girl replied quietly. Zhùlǐ glanced back at her Engine, her neck twisting with an almost-inaudible pop. 

_ That’s it. _

Mal nearly fell out of her chair. The more she listened, the more she could hear it. 

“You-you’re a robot!” 

Zhùlǐ snapped her gaze back to Mal with a scowl. “I would prefer the term ‘Akuma’,” she said sharply. The distinct whirring sound was coming from beneath her pale skin, like the hum of many trillion machines working together in simultaneous harmony. Mal was on her feet before she realized what she was doing, leaning over the desk to stare at this unique craftsmanship before her. She never would have guessed that robots had become so lifelike. She knew the Emperor had been designing Akumas for awhile now, but this....this was revolutionary.

“Amazing,” she breathed. Mal pinched Zhùlǐ’s hand and felt the cold shock of metal beneath it, not at all like what a normal hand should feel like. How had she not seen this before? Zhùlǐ pulled her hand away and glared a hole through Mal’s head with her eyes. 

“I would please request for you to sit back down, Miss Malchance. This is hardly appropriate.” 

Mal seemed to remember that she was in an interview and sat down, unable to pull her gaze off of her newfound discovery. “I had no idea Emperor Yīng was so evolved in his achievements!” 

“I am one of his first successes,” Zhùlǐ admitted. “Though I am most assuredly the first of many.” 

“It’s brilliant,” Mal beamed, a smile pulling at the edges of her lips. Then she seemed to remember something and the smile faded as quickly as it had come. She stiffened, her eyes narrowing, and regarded the Akuma carefully. “Has anyone guessed what you are before?” 

Zhùlǐ gave an awkward glance around the room, her composure slipping away for a moment. “Not until now. I must say, I am surprised that you were able to notice.” There was an awkward silence before the assistant returned her attention back to the interview and leaned forward on the desk, intertwining her hands together before her. “Since you seem to have such a keen eye for machinery, let’s see what invention you have brought for me today.” 

Mal suppressed a nervous shiver that tingled along her back. She had been tinkering with this invention for weeks, maybe even months. She knew it needed to be perfect in order to impress her interviewer. Now that it was finally the time, she couldn’t help wonder if there was more she could have done to it. Gingerly, she reached inside one of the pockets in her oversized trousers and brought out a hand-sized object which she laid it on the desk. It was a robot in the shape of a large ladybug, painted with bright red and black paint. It was created mostly from iron and bronze, but it contained bits and pieces of the newfangled things like Vryeon and Otelien. Mal reached underneath it and snapped something into place. Immediately, the robot buzzed to life as the wires within it began pulsating with electricity. Its legs crept slowly across the surface of the table, the antennae on the top of its head wriggling as it took in its surroundings. Zhùlǐ remained expressionless as she watched. 

“I call this my a...well, ladybug,” Mal stated as the robot began to crawl over the assistant’s hand. 

Zhùlǐ raised an eyebrow. “Very ingenuitive name.” They watched as the ladybug opened the shell that encased its back and stretched out a pair of glossy wings. It sat there clicking for a moment before rising into the air, wings thrumming together as it gained altitude. It spun above their heads in figure-eight circles before descending back down to the desk and landing gently. There it stopped, seemingly finished with its display. Zhùlǐ cleared her throat. 

“Well, miss Malchance, if we had been looking for a windup toy we could have looked in Emperor Yīng’s son’s toybox. I must say I expected more from you.” 

“It’s not done yet,” Mal grinned. She reached out and pressed down on the ladybug’s head. The robot sputtered, and then began to shift. Its legs crumpled in on themselves, its back opened and began to rewire itself in all sorts of different ways. It grew taller and larger, wheels whirring as the invention transformed before their eyes. When it was finished, it was no longer a ladybug. A medium-sized black cat sat before them, blinking its emerald irises and wiggling its whiskers on the sides of its face. It got up and stretched, sinking its front claws into the desk and letting out a distinct rumble that sounded almost similar to a pur. Mal flashed a wink at Zhùlǐ before running her hand down the back of her invention, beaming as the cat responded with a satisfied meow. 

“I’m-”

“Speechless? I know. It’s quite the thing, am I right?” 

“I was going to say that I’m not very fond of cats. Yet, I will admit, this invention is quite the achievement.” Zhùlǐ grimaced at the place where the cat’s nails had damaged her desk. “Thank you for your presentation.” 

“It was my pleasure.” Mal switched the robot off and it collapsed back into its ladybug form so she could stuff it away back into her pocket. “Are we finished?” 

The Akuma opened a drawer to the desk and pulled out a sheet of paper and selected a pen from the many black pens placed neatly beside her Engine. She began to write something down in flowing handwriting, her wrist popping once and awhile as she wrote. After what seemed like two eternities, she passed the paper to Mal and told her she had to sign a couple of things. The engineer tried to control the quiver that had suddenly developed in her hand as she bent to sign her name. She messed up on one of the letters and had to cross the whole thing out and start again. Her palm left a nice grease stain on the white parchment to top the whole thing off. Once every possible line in existence on the single sheet had been signed, Zhùlǐ returned the paper to wherever it came from and stood up. 

“We are now finished. We will contact you within the next two weeks to let you know if you qualified for our scholarship. Thank you for your time, Miss Malchance.” The two shook hands with as much patience and poise as they both could muster. As Mal turned to leave, she realized that Zhùlǐ’s hand was still firmly grasping hers. She turned back to her with a confused look. The assistant was peering intently at her, her eyes roving over a spot directly beneath Mal’s neck. With a start, she yanked her hand free and placed it over her chest, hoping the Akuma hadn’t seen too much. 

“That is an interesting necklace,” she said softly, and Mal’s stomach dropped down to her feet. 

“It’s nothing,” she said, her voice hitching with a hint of malice. 

“Might I take a look at it?” 

Mal backed away, eyes glittering beneath furrowed brows. She hid the necklace as far below her shirt as it would go and didn’t stop until she reached the door. Zhùlǐ remained still, her joints frozen as if the machinery within her had glitched. Hunched over the desk, she almost looked like a wild animal ready to pounce on her prey. Mal was about ready to turn into a wild animal herself when the Akuma straightened and seemed to shake off whatever had come over her. Just as the girl’s fingers brushed the doorknob, the look in Zhùlǐ’s eyes vanished and she gave the engineer a heartless smile. 

“Good-day.” 

“Bye.” Mal slammed the door behind her and darted down the hallway, heart pounding in her chest. She ran all the way to the elevator and crashed inside it, slamming the button for the first floor and holding her breath until the doors locked into place. She leaned her head against the cool bronze and let her fingers drift over the frame of the compass hanging from her neck. She should have left it at home. It was dangerous to bring it here, where people were too smart for their own good. She drew in a long breath. Zhùlǐ had only been curious. She was probably overthinking things. 

The elevator dinged as it slid to a stop. Mal forced herself to step out into the hallway and control the queasiness that was beginning to swim around in her gut. She kept her eyes trained on the carpet beneath her feet as she made her way to the main entrance, every cell in her body screaming for her to make it out into the fresh air as soon as possible. She was half-way down the hall when she heard it. 

_ Screams. _

Terrified, agonized screams. They were muffled, as if the victim of the pain were biting down on a piece of fabric. Mal froze. The noise was coming from her left, in one of the many rooms lining the hall. She could see that one of the doors was ajar, leading to a shadowy room beyond. The girl hesitated, caught between investigating and fleeing as fast as her feet could take her. She had already had enough of this stuffy building for one day. The cries came again, less loud this time, but laced with a type of sorrow that Mal wished to never know. She made up her mind then. The room beckoned as she drew closer, creeping along silently as to not startle whoever resided on the other side of the door. She came to the handle and pushed it open slowly, squinting into the heavy darkness. There was no light in the room, and everything had suddenly gone silent. Mal stood motionless, one foot inside the room and on foot still in the safety of the hallway. 

Someone let out a pitiful groan and whimpered as if holding back tears. 

Mal stepped all the way in. She couldn’t resist the temptation, and whoever was in here could use some help. She came forward, pupils dilated for any signs of light or figures. She stopped before the hunched form of someone on the ground, rocking back and forth with their arm pressed tightly against their chest. 

“Hello…?” 

The figure whirled in her direction. The light from the doorway caught in his hair and eyes, and at once Mal recognized him. It was the boy from the elevator. He stared at her with tear-stained cheeks as she bent down beside him, concern evident on her face. He flinched when she brushed against his elbow. 

“Are you alright?” she asked cautiously. It looked like he was about to nod, but stopped and bent his face away from her in an obvious statement that he was not alright. His jaw clenched tightly as he squeezed his right arm even closer against himself. Mal could not resist her curiosity any longer. She reached toward his hurt limb, muttering that he should let her take a look at it. He sat, unmoving, as her hand met the fabric of his shirt.

Mal screeched. 

Her hand was burning. His shirt was burning. HE was burning. She pulled away from him in shock, surveying her palm where a red spot was forming. His arm had been blazing to the touch, as if all the blood in his body had raced to that one spot and had begun exploding. He flinched away from her, eyes darting with fear. 

“I’m sorry-” he gasped. 

“What is wrong with you?!” Mal half-shouted. Cocci was stunned. Even in the darkness, his face was pale. 

“Nothing,” he said quietly. “I was feeling ill, that’s all. I’m okay now.” He began to stand, but Mal jumped to her feet before him and edged toward the door. 

“You didn’t seem okay. You were screaming just a second ago.” 

“It’s…” he trailed off, trying to find the right words. “It’s nothing, really. I’m being treated for it.” 

Mal knew she was being insensitive. Maybe she had been wrong and his arm hadn’t really been that hot. With all of the strange things that happened today, she could’ve started to imagine things. She let out a heavy exhale. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interfere.” Before he could respond, she spun on her heel and made for the door. She didn’t bother looking back. She knew all she would see was a troubled boy holding an arm that had been electrified only minutes before. She needed to get out of here. She needed to feel the sun on her hair and the wind on her skin and she needed to forget about this entire day. This wasn’t how she had expected any of it to go. 

⌛ . ⌛ . ⌛

  


He stood in front of the world. 

His world, a city of sputtering smoke and clacking wheels that he had created. He held it in his hands, he shaped it and fit it together like a piece of machinery. He could destroy it with a breath, or reshape it in a heartbeat. It felt fragile...as if he were looking upon the face of a newborn babe. 

Light flooded the room behind him, hinted with the different colors from the mural he stood before. It collected itself in little pools of violet, it danced up high with feet of gold, it played on the ends of his graying hair. It seemed to be everywhere. Except for that one little place beneath his neck that sometimes hammered in his ears. 

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered. And truly, he meant it. He would not trade it away for anything else. “But they don’t understand.” 

That was the problem with mankind. They never seemed to grasp the entirety of themselves, or wonder at the little intricacies that connected them together like so many unseen wires. They were foolish, ignorant...children in desperate need of a guiding hand. It could very well be that this was the reason he was here. To show them the world as it was- a thing that was growing, evolving, in need of an engineer. All he had to do was twist a couple of bolts, undo a couple of screws, and they would thrive better than they had before. 

He wasn’t doing it for himself. No, that would be selfish. No one listens to a leader seeking self-gain. He was doing it for them, for his son. 

_ For her. _

His hand clenched around the item in his left hand. He brought it up into the light, where the light reflected off of its gold surface. The needles of the compass spun wildly at the movement, but they always returned to north. That's how it had been created. It did what was asked of it, and nothing else.

So should the world be, and so shall he make it. He would make her proud. 


End file.
